


Reckless

by winethroughwater



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winethroughwater/pseuds/winethroughwater
Summary: Seven words, eight syllables and in the space of 1.84 seconds, she’s staring down at the floor and mumbling, “I did bad.”
Another take on that deleted/alternate  scene.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I ship the ghost girls in pretty much infinite combinations but I'm a sucker for an older woman.

“Do you know how powerful this is?”

 

Seven words, eight syllables and in the space of 1.84 seconds, she’s staring down at the floor and mumbling, “I did bad.”

 

Forget the whole legitimizing an entire branch of science thing.  Forget the part where they had saved the world.  

 

She glances back up and watches a begloved hand remove the dark-rimmed glasses.  

 

She might as well be that grad-student whose heart always felt like it was beating out of her chest Bugs Bunny style whenever her professor stood just a fraction closer to her than usual.  

 

“And I have never been more proud of you.”

 

All it takes is Rebecca Gorin standing in front of her with her arms spread and lips curled in a proud smile.  Rebecca Gorin, who doesn’t so much as shake hands with other people, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, and the words just projectile vomit right out of her mouth:  “I freakin’ love you and you know that, right?”

 

It isn’t the world’s most eloquent declaration of love but it feels right.  It feels like a decade of weight lifted off her chest--until her mentor stiffens in her arms and warns, “My sternum.”

 

It’s the worst possible miscalculation.  

 

She forgot to carry a one somewhere and it's caused a chain reaction headed for a meltdown that will level cities.  Years later people will be publishing stories about that one brave man who stayed behind to take care of the animals like some radioactive Noah . . .

 

“Don’t break your mentor,” Abby warns.  And, of course, there has to be witnesses--the people who’d made her feel like all of this was possible in the first place.

 

“Jillian.”  No one calls her Jillian except Dr. Gorin.  “My sternum.”

 

She does the only thing she can.  She claps the other woman on the back like a buddy, like the whole thing had just been between pals.  Just a couple of gal pals, the two of them.  Nothing to see here.

 

Whether intentionally or not, Gorin gives her an out, starts talking about adding even more power and she hurls herself headlong into the conversation, even manages to throw a manic “I love it” in for good measure to show her the list of things she _loves_ is extensive.  She loves blatant disregard for safety, obviously.  She loves pizza with pineapple.  She loves Youtube videos of cats being adorable assholes.  Her love obviously isn’t reserved for Dr. Rebecca Gorin alone.

 

And to really prove that she hadn’t just made a complete fool of herself--that she isn’t 32 and still single because no one else has ever measured up to the woman standing in front of her, she turns and points at Erin: “And we’re dating.”  

 

Erin looks dumbfounded and immediately denies it, starts to mumble something equally delusional about Kevin.  It’s moments like this that make her wish she had shared the elaborate system of hand signals she’d devised with the rest of the team.

 

She opens her mouth and the noises that come out are awkward even for her.

 

Finally she draws out, “Back to the drawing board on that one.”  

 

She laughs.  

 

And laughs until Abby cuts her off, saying, “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Gorin.” She pulls Erin by the elbow to leave then stops.  “Please don’t disintegrate us all.”

 

She’s left with Dr. Gorin who thankfully just turns her attention back to the containment unit.

  
“Should you remove that safety light or shall I?” she asks.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, the honor of removing the totally unnecessary safety light falls to Rebecca as Holtzmann races her friends up the two flights of stairs to the roof to gape at the spectacle emblazoned across the grateful city’s skyline.

 

Holtz comes in almost an hour later still feeling like she’s on the top of the world to find her mentor elbow deep in the guts of the containment unit.  

 

Gorin’s so focused on her work that she doesn’t even notice Holtzmann jumping off the bottom stair onto the landing with her usual grace-less aplomb.  

 

Watching Rebecca’s bent back, Holtzmann is tempted to throw her arms around the older woman’s waist and hold her the way she’d just held Abby and Erin and Patty.   She wants to press her cheek, still cold from the wind, against the back of that worn lab coat and tell Rebecca how this is one of the greatest days of her life.  

 

She wants to sweep her into this happy place she’s suddenly found herself living in.

 

Instead she says, “Did you at least buy it a drink first?” and Rebecca bangs her head on the metal casing of the unit with a pronounced curse.

 

When Rebecca turns to face her, righting the glasses that have slid down her nose, Holtzmann can’t hide the grin splitting her face--nor can she stop herself from trying to describe every second of what she’d just seen up on the roof, the whole city lit up with thanks.

 

“Patty took loads of pics for our Insta,” she eventually winds down, elbows propped on her workbench, a little embarrassed at her enthusiasm.  “I can send you copies if you want--”

 

“You have every right to be proud of your accomplishments, Jillian,” Rebecca interrupts.  “I meant what I said earlier.”

 

She reaches out and touches Holtz’s wrist for emphasis.

 

A tingle runs up Holtz’s arm and across the back of her neck like she’s just licked a battery.

 

Maybe she isn’t as in control of this romantic ‘sitch as she thinks.  

 

Or maybe Rebecca’s gloves are just radioactive.

 

She’d made a decision on the roof, though.  Might as well dive right in the deep end.

 

“So about what _I_ said earlier . . .”

 

“About dating Dr. Gilbert?”

 

She shakes her head--”Women”-- and makes a sound like air coming out of a balloon.  “Am-I-right?”

 

“She’s very attractive.”

 

Dr. Rebecca Gorin isn’t given to stating the obvious.  Her observation sounds suspiciously like she’s fishing for something.

 

“Erin s’alright.”  Holtz decides to test the water-- _where are all these aquatic metaphors suddenly coming from?_ a tiny part of her brain wonders--and lets her eyes sweep from the messy hair atop her mentor’s head (a fraction more gray shooting through the brown than the last time she had seen her) to the worn boots on her feet (she’d swear they were the same one’s Rebecca had been wearing back when she’d been in post-grad and committing essential details like her professor’s sartorial choices to memory) and back to meet her eyes. “Could be taller.”  

 

“ _Taller_ is a good quality?”  There’s a hint of something more, something promising in the question and in the fine lines around Rebecca’s eyes that have started to crinkle in the most adorable way.

 

“Taller is _definitely_ good.”  Six feet.  1.828800 meters.  No matter the standard unit of measure it was absolutely perfect.  Even if she’s already getting a crick in her neck from staring up at her.  “But I meant the _other_ thing I said earlier.”

 

“Oh.  When you told me you loved me?” Rebecca asks casually.

 

“Yeah, ‘bout that.”  Holtz’s fingers fidget with a stray piece of copper wire, bending it in and out of a U shape.

 

“What about it?”  Rebecca peels one bright yellow glove off and has Holtz’s rapt attention.  “Shall we keep pretending it was just an offhand remark?” The other follows, carelessly tossed to the table. The wire springs out of Holtz’s hand--thankfully not catching anyone in the eye this time. “Or do you want to take it back entirely?” Rebecca finishes.  

 

Holtz swallows.

 

The gloves have come off--literally.  

 

She doesn’t even have to think about her answer:  “None of the above.”

 

Rebecca smiles uncertainly as Holtz abandons the safety of the workbench to enter her personal space.

 

“Jillian, I have known about your crush on me since your first day in my lab when you asked me to hand you a _breast_ tube instead of a _test_ tube. But--”

 

“In the immortal words of Van Halen, I was totally hot for teacher, but you haven’t been my teacher in a long time.”

 

“Still,” she starts, then shakes her head.  Her fingers toy with Holtzmann’s necklace, fixating on the ridges over the screw instead of meeting her eyes. “Is there an equivalent song about the teacher being inappropriately ‘hot’ for her student?”

 

“Nah, that’s mostly in the books they make you read in literature seminars.”

 

Rebecca’s lips tug up at the corner.  Hazel eyes finally, _finally_ , meet hers and Holtz has had enough.

 

Her fingers tug on the labels of Rebecca’s coat.

 

“Come down here or I’m going to have to climb up you.”  

 

“Now that’s an intriguing prospect.”

 

Even when Rebecca tilts her head down, Holtz still has to stand on her tiptoes to reach optimum kissing level.

 

This really is one of the best days ever.


End file.
